Page 9 of Stilettos and Outlaws

Mom held out her purse. “Find my cellphone, Gemma. I don’t want to put Miss Kitty down.”

“Okay.” I dug around in her purse. Huh? Mom had a flashbang, a smoke grenade and a tomahawk. What the heck was she planning on doing with them? Did I really want to know? Nope. I held out her cellphone. “Here ya go.”

“Thanks. While you’re checking the barn, I’ll call your father and let him know Chuck is the mad bomber. Be sure to watch for booby traps, now.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Julie and I said in unison and started down the crude path that wound through the chest-high weeds.

I examined the ground in front of us. “I’m not seeing any trip wires, are you?”

“Nope, and if there were any, Chuck would have blown himself up by now.”

“Good point.”

Julie glanced over her shoulder. “Sometimes your mom is downright scary.”

“It’s the only way she keeps the boys in line,” I stated.

“They can get a little rowdy.”

I snorted. “Ya think?” The back of the trailer was worse than the front. There had to be at least fifty rotted tires, a slew of old bicycles, and a dozen mannequins. I quickly documented the mess and forwarded the pictures to Sergeant Bergman. “What is he planning on doing with all of this crap?”

“That is the million-dollar question.” Julie put out her arm to stop me. “Looky there.”

I let out a whistle and snapped some shots of the trip wire. “Gotta say, I’m a bit surprised. With his dementia, I didn’t think Chuck could rig up a laser beam trip wire.”

“He couldn’t. Someone must be helping him, but what is the endgame?”

“Dunno, this case keeps getting worse and worse. I peered into the dim interior of the barn. On a cluttered workbench were several packages of C4, gunpowder and lead pipes. I took more pictures. “I think we’d better wait for Nate and his squad to check this place out.”

“I agree.” Julie pointed her flashlight at the corner of the barn and gasped. “Oh hell! Those are Claymore mines!”

I focused on six gray-green plastic cases with scissor-like legs and took more photos. A pile of sweating dynamite sticks sat next to them. “Shit! It won’t take much to set off that crystallized nitroglycerin. If they blow, so will the Claymore mines and the C4 too.” I sent the photos to Sergeant Bergman, Dad and Nate.

My cellphone rang.

“Deputy Stone.”

Sergeant Bergman growled. “Get out of there.”

“Yes, sir. Nate is going to have his hands full with this mess.”

“The bomb squad ETA is fifteen minutes. Evacuate to the roadway,” Sergeant Bergman instructed.

“Yes, sir.”

Two chickens strutted into the barn, breaking the laser beam.

“Oh, shit!”

“Run,” Julie yelled.

I ran for my life.

“What’s going on?” Sergeant Bergman shouted.

Kablooey!A huge fireball rose high into the sky.

The force of the blast sent us flying, head over heels. I landed on a stained mattress in the bed of Chuck’s truck. Julie fell on top of me. Pain radiated through my face, and I could feel blood running down my chin. God, I hoped I hadn’t broken my nose.

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